<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>words are overrated (but i'll spit them out anyway) by TheBooksAreBetter</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23196514">words are overrated (but i'll spit them out anyway)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBooksAreBetter/pseuds/TheBooksAreBetter'>TheBooksAreBetter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drunk Texting, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Gay Disaster Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Idiots in Love, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is His Own Warning, and eats a tub of ice cream, dramatic eddie kaspbrack, emotionally repressed eddie, he drinks a lot, richie kind of breaks into eddie's apartment</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:53:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,638</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23196514</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBooksAreBetter/pseuds/TheBooksAreBetter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Richie &lt;3: but you were literally married to a woman, eds <br/>"fuck that hoe"<br/>Richie &lt;3: oh. ur drunk. i agree</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>104</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>words are overrated (but i'll spit them out anyway)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>u ever been so hungover you'd rather clean than be on your phone? yeah, me either. what the fuck eddie</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eddie never knew what to say. He wasn't particularly good at articulating his emotions. He wasn't always entirely sure that he wanted to be. Always backtracking before anything substantial slipped out, even if he wasn't entirely sure what he was afraid of. Maybe he wishes he could say that.</p>
<p>He liked texting... or he was better at it at least. It was easier. There was more time to think to answer himself and less anxiety over receiving answers from others. Less face. He had gotten at least a little more experience with opening up since discovering its ease. But it wasn't much. He had a bad habit of typing everything out, everything he felt in a moment, and then deleting it in its entirety. He often opted for something easy and familiar. Maybe a "what's up?" or "shut up." If he didn't feel like saying words at all, the easiest way to prevent word vomit was a simple "&gt;:(".</p>
<p>However, problems lie in keeping secrets. Problems lie in keeping everything bottled so tight, that you have paragraphs upon paragraphs of ranting to delete at a time. Problems lie in talking with someone who cannot stop talking, at all hours of the day, when you have so many things you've avoided saying entirely. Problems lie in being in love with said person. </p>
<p>Problems lie with Richie Tozier.</p>
<p>When Richie tells this story, much, much later, in his comedy special. He will tell the audience, "It started off like any other Friday night. A normal, relaxing, summer evening." Then he'll spew some other exposition bullshit, but it doesn't matter because he was right. It had started that way. </p>
<p>Eddie woke up without having slept very much at all. He groaned, and dramatically pulled the covers over his head, reacting to the sunlight pouring into his room like a vampire. His head and joints ached in protest and he knew he had had much more too drink than planned the previous night. He threw his arm out from under the covers and blindly opened his nightstand drawer. Successfully retrieving ibuprofen, he dry swallowed them with practiced ease. He yawned, and finally pushed the covers off of his head to stretch. He scratched his head for a moment, attempting to remember how he had even gotten home. He knows he had went out drinking with some friends from work, and he knows that he had been arguing with Richie right beforehand. This information alone was enough to explain why he had drank so much. </p>
<p>He slowly extracted himself from the warm, inviting, lovely mattress to pad out of his room and into the kitchen. His sweatpants were a few sizes too big, his toes barely peeking out from beneath them. He wondered idly if he had accidentally stole them from Richie as he rinsed out his mug and started a pot of coffee. He hasn't checked his phone, yet. If for any reason, to save himself the embarrassment. Another issue with being emotionally repressed? Your drunk self does not give a single shit. Could not care less what other people think of your words. So instead of even allowing a glance at his phone, he checks the time on the oven. A blue 12:53 blinked at him. He felt his eyes widen in shock. He hadn't slept in that late since he was a teenager. Jesus, how much more had he had?</p>
<p>He bit his lip in contemplation but finally decided to at least make sure no one was worried about him. He made his coffee. Busied himself with mindless tasks in the kitchen. Then nervously meandered his way back to his bedroom. With a deep, admittedly dramatic breath, he pulled his phone off the charger and looked. Jesus Christ. </p>
<p>He opened it to see over 50+ texts and 12 missed calls. He threw himself back into bed and whined. </p>
<p>He had texts from not only each of the losers individually but the group chat as well. Fuck. He hesitantly opened his messages with Bev first. He scrolled up to the last message he actually remembered sending and felt his throat seize. </p>
<p>Bev [12 am]: Hey, babe! Ben said you were drinking lol. You okay?</p>
<p>He had messaged Ben first? Fuck. </p>
<p>His own idiot self [12:31 am]: "Hello, Beverly. Yes, I am. I am feeling good despite Ben's betrayal. Thanks."</p>
<p>Bev [12:32 am]: LMAO.<br/>Bev: Hey you sure ur ok? lol<br/>Bev: Eddie? <br/>Bev: Hey, ur kind of being an asshole.<br/>Bev: OK. Fine. Ignore me and text Ben.<br/>Bev: I can see ur texting Ben, fucker.<br/>Bev: HEY</p>
<p>"iim being a n ashole bev v???? ur the one that's all the way like a bajillion miles away even tho u promised we wld visit. and ur like. you never want to talk for hang out anymore it's like rly not cool. and i k  c cthat you talk rob to richiea a lot bc he told me. rly kind sad."</p>
<p>Bev: Oh, baby. You're drunk. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?</p>
<p>"..."<br/>"i lov u. goodnight bev."</p>
<p>Bev: I love you, too, fucker. Goodnight.</p>
<p>Bev [7:12 am]: Hey, i'm still worried about you. <br/>Bev: Text when you see this please.<br/>Bev: Just so I know you're alive?<br/>Bev: Everyone's worried. Did you tell EVERYONE how you felt last night?<br/>Bev: FYI. Richie hasn't texted the group chat, babe. </p>
<p>Eddie felt something awful in his stomach. He opened his messages with Ben.</p>
<p>his own idiot self [11:30 pm]: "hey can u fuck up like once lol"</p>
<p>Ben: What?</p>
<p>"like just like. ur perfect wtf. like fuck up one time for th rest of us like take on for the team man"</p>
<p>Ben: You're drunk.</p>
<p>"yah lol"</p>
<p>Ben: OK. I'm going to tell Bev.</p>
<p>"fucking up for the team hel yeah"</p>
<p>[1:15 am]: "ily"<br/>Ben: ilyt</p>
<p>Ben [2:27 am]: Hey, you okay?<br/>Ben: Bev is worried about you.<br/>Ben: You know we've both just been busy with work. She texts Rich because she worries about him. She trusts you with yourself. You know? We're always here; sorry if it hasn't felt that way. </p>
<p>Leave it to Ben to be the kindest person alive when he's being asshole.</p>
<p>His messages with Stan and Mike were uneventful, similar shit about how he missed them and loved them.</p>
<p>his own idiot self [1:14 am]: i lov u ok? like ur the best and ur the only one that cleans and cares ab stupid things lik me:(</p>
<p>Stan: It's called anxiety, Eddie. I'm glad you find comfort in our mental solidarity. Also that you love me when you're drunk. Love you, too. </p>
<p>Stan [12am]: Hey, Richie's like really worried about you. Also he's pissed I got an 'I love you' text and he didn't. <br/>Stan: Apparently I wasn't supposed to tell you that. Text when you can. </p>
<p>his own idiot self [1:32 am]: miiiicccyyccllee lol mike micycle. haha. i'd ride that (jk) lov u</p>
<p>Eddie buried his face in one hand and peeked through his fingers at Mike's response. </p>
<p>Mike: You're as bad as Rich when you're drunk. LMAO. Lov u 2</p>
<p>Mike[2:45am]: Hey, let me know if you're okay?</p>
<p>Well that wasn't bad. Bill's next. </p>
<p>his own idiot self [2:32 am]: "r u lik homophobic lmao"</p>
<p>Oh Jesus Christ. </p>
<p>Bill: Um? Where is that coming from? No?<br/>"u kill all the gay dudes in ur boookks, dude"<br/>Bill: Not like? Intentionally?<br/>"so if ur friends were gay that'd b lik cool?"<br/>Bill: That's fine? I mean I might be uncomfortable if they like hit on me or something, but I react the same to women.<br/>"not everyone wants to hit on u fucker"<br/>Bill: I KNOW that. <br/>"uv literally always thot u wr the best and ur kind a mean ab it lik u nevr listen to any1 else itz jus what U want always"<br/>Bill: Okay, dick, I think you're drunk so I'm out. <br/>"i love you, but sometimes y don't listen to anyone r anything except urself and it like ducks everything up"<br/>Bill: ... I know. I'm working on it. I love you, too. <br/>"coo.l. stop killing the gay dudes"<br/>Bill: Okay</p>
<p>Bill [8:56 am]: Hey, we're worried about you. Call me. </p>
<p>Eddie grinned, he'd been meaning to ask for a while. It wasn't perfect but made him feel a bit better about his inner conflict as of late. </p>
<p>He opened the group text. He was definitely avoiding Richie for now. </p>
<p>Ben: Eddie is WASTED, huh?<br/>Mike: He said he'd ride me lol<br/>Bill: Is that why he asked if I was homophobic?<br/>Bev: HE WHAT AHAHAHAHA<br/>Bev: Oh Eddie, baby. <br/>"Shhhhuuu shut ur mouths i'm ASLEEP"<br/>Stan: Eddie do you need anything?<br/>"DICK"<br/>Stan: Wow, ok. Forget I asked.<br/>Bev: Eddie PLEASE leave that bar ALONE tonight <br/>"i will. tfw u can kill an a a hmophobic scary child consuming clown buNOT the gay thoughts"<br/>Bev: Oh, my GOD. Eddie go HOME. </p>
<p>Eddie felt his whole body flush hot with embarrassment. So he came out then. Less exciting than he thought it would be. Maybe they were sparing him because he was right and properly fucked up. </p>
<p>He had missed four calls from Bev, two before and two after the gay thoughts text. Two more from everyone else except Richie. Apparently they had had an hour long conversation from 4-5 in the morning. What the fuck?</p>
<p>He opened their texts. </p>
<p>his own idiot self [11:15 pm]: Hey. </p>
<p>Richie &lt;3: hhheeeyyyy :D<br/>"I'm gay."<br/>Richie &lt;3: oh. rly? same</p>
<p>SAME?!</p>
<p>Richie &lt;3: but you were literally married to a woman, eds <br/>"fuck that hoe"<br/>Richie &lt;3: oh. ur drunk. i agree<br/>"u make me laugh :)"<br/>Richie &lt;3: good it's kind of my career<br/>"no lik u make me lik rly laugh lik idk everytime u txt me i smile"<br/>Richie &lt;3: i'm totally holding that against sober you. but yeah. same to you, eds. <br/>"i don't smile a lot. kind a sad ngl."<br/>Richie &lt;3: u ok?<br/>"when i talk 2 u"<br/>Richie&lt;3: oh. ur drunk.</p>
<p>[3:17 am]: "i was in love with you."</p>
<p>Is Eddie's heart beating? He's pretty sure it's not beating. Is he even breathing? </p>
<p>Richie &lt;3: wait what<br/>"i was so in love with you when we were kids."<br/>Richie &lt;3: oh. ur drunk. <br/>"when i saw u again. in derry. i lik remembered i was in lov w u. it was so weird bc. i felt it."<br/>Richie &lt;3: yeah.<br/>"sorry."<br/>Richie &lt;3: it's okay, eds, really. you won't feel like this tomorrow morning.<br/>"rich i've felt like this every single day since i was 13 fucking years old. and then i forgot i felt like that and it felt like smth was lik idk lik MISSINGG GN and then i saw ur dum face n i remmmbered and then i felt. lik complete. whole. i've felt like this every friggin day since then, too. u don get to tell m how i feel jus bc u don't feel the same way. i loved you then. i lov u now. ur the only one who can mak m e feel ok. alive. i jus wanna b alive yk? u make me laugh n feel better and u kn me" <br/>Richie &lt;3: eddie. cmon man. stop<br/>"sorry."<br/>Richie &lt;3: why?<br/>"idk. i'm mking u uncomfortable right ??? js found out ur gay and u probbly like. like. BEN or smth. bc he's perfect. stupid"<br/>Richie &lt;3: i don't like ben skdjsjjsw ben and bev are like creepily together all the time. i like need you to get ur shit together</p>
<p>That explains the 4am call. </p>
<p>He calls Bev, now, his breath picking up in a panic. She answers immediately.<br/>"EDDIE! We were worried when you didn't answer our calls! You always answer the phone!"<br/>"I- I know. I'm sorry."<br/>"Hey, breathe. Did you count?" </p>
<p>Oh, Bev. Sweet, sweet, Bev. He counted backwards from 27 by 3's and then back again, his breath evening out.</p>
<p>"That's it," she said warmly, "You okay?"<br/>He put the call on speaker and curled around the evil device. "Yeah. Just embarrassed. I confessed my love to everyone."<br/>She laughed. He heard her whisper something away from the phone. Probably Ben. "Yes, you did. Congrats on coming out by the way!"<br/>"Yeah! Congrats!" A farther away voice yelled, confirming Ben's presence. <br/>"So does everyone include... Richie?" Bev asked hesitantly, concern and knowing seeping through her tone.<br/>He sighed. A pause. "Yeah."<br/>She squealed. "Yes! So you guys are together now, yeah?"<br/>"Um," his voice cracked betraying him, "I. Don't think so, Bev. He like? Didn't believe me? We had a phone call at like four in the fucking morning and I can't remember a single word from it. Drunk me spilled my guts and sober Richie wasn't having it. He told me he needed me to get my shit together."<br/>"Oh. Eddie, baby." She sounded angry, sad, and confused all at once. <br/>Her tone somehow made everything hit him all at once. He choked back tears he knew were coming. "I- I think i'm going to go?" His voice was thick and heavy. <br/>"Okay. Text the group chat so they know you're alive, okay? We got kind of worried about stranger danger."<br/>He laughed a little at that. "Okay, Bev. Bye. Love you."<br/>He heard her sigh even though she definitely tried to hide it away from the speaker. "I love you, too, Eddie, baby. Buh-bye."</p>
<p>He opened the group chat. His thumbs hovered over the keys. The blinking blue line mocked him. </p>
<p>his stupid idiot self [2 pm]: "I need a t-shirt that says 'I came out and all I got was confirmation that the killer clown was homophobic.'"<br/>Stan: He wasn't to me. He told me specifically he was an ally and loved dick. <br/>Bill: Drunk you lumping me in with a murderous clown was REALLY the highlight of my night. <br/>Mike: I got flirted with so I win this round of drunk Eddie says <br/>Bev: No, I win. I got real actual feelings. <br/>Ben: We're proud of you, Eddie!<br/>Stan: No one's impressed, Mike, he told everyone he loved them last night. <br/>Bill: Everyone? Man, I thought I was special.</p>
<p>Eddie figured he might as well bite the bullet. "Has anyone heard from Richie?"<br/>Bill: Nope<br/>Mike: Nah<br/>Ben. No. Sorry, Eddie.<br/>Bev: Just talked to him. He's alive.<br/>Ben: What? How?<br/>Stan: Yeah. We talked this morning. He's okay. </p>
<p>Eddie let him self wallow in self pity a little longer before his stomach forced him to get up. He dragged his feet back through the path from his bedroom to the kitchen. (Which really wasn't a long journey considering the size of his apartment.) After looking through his cabinets and fridge and deeming everything far too healthy for what he needed right now, he decided to go for a walk. He threw on some clothes that screamed "I'm depressed so who cares!" and a face that screamed "Don't fucking touch me." That's really all he needed for a trip to get wine and a tub of ice cream. He slipped his sneakers on and grabbed his keys. It took him longer than necessary to lock the door because of his shaking hands, but he managed. He kept his red rimmed eyes pointed toward the ground. His hands in his pockets. </p>
<p>It was a five minute walk but it felt like five hours had passed by the time the bell above the door had signaled his arrival to the bodega. Nobody even looked up as he trudged through the small space. He ended up with the biggest tub he could find of a disastrous fudge cookie dough thing he knew was Richie's favorite and a random customer's recommended wine. He hadn't even left the house more than twenty minutes but he felt a little better. He was still out of his mind enough to not even wonder why his door was already unlocked when he arrived home. He slipped his shoes off and threw his wallet and keys down on the coffee table. His feet led him to his new favorite place, the kitchen.  He didn't bother with throwing away the bags, or getting a bowl from the top cabinet. He opened the drawer (the second left one from the sink where he has exactly 10 spoons, 11 forks, and 7 knives) and snatched a spoon. He hopped up on the same counter the ice cream lay. His legs came up so he was criss-cross-applesauce, his bright mix matched socks barely visible under the clothes he now knows are definitely Richie's. He pulled the tub into his lap and hummed around the first bite. </p>
<p>"Rough night?" A rough voice asked, right next to him. </p>
<p>Eddie made an embarrassing noise and fell right off the counter. His back and head hit the floor, knocking the wind out of him. The ice cream landed up right next to him. </p>
<p>"Oh, my God, Eddie! Are you okay?" Richie ran around the counter and sat down beside him. </p>
<p>Eddie hissed as he sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Richie?" he asked, stupidly. </p>
<p>"Duh, dude. Are you okay?" Richie reached toward him, paused, then settled his hands in his own lap. </p>
<p>"Fine. What're you doing here?" Eddie collected himself. He decided to remain seated on the floor. He grabbed the ice cream back and took a huge bite with earnest. </p>
<p>Richie looked like a stray cat backed into a corner. "You really fell for me, huh?" He tried to joke. Eddie glared at him. "Do you remember our call last night?"</p>
<p>Eddie whined and buried his face in his hands. </p>
<p>"I'll take that as a no." He stood up and opened the drawer (the second left one from the sink where he has exactly 9 spoons, 11 forks, and 7 knives) and got himself a spoon. He plopped down in front of Eddie and stole himself a huge spoonful. He moaned around the bite. "My favorite holy shit." He stole another and looked around, finally taking in the situation. The wine. The clothes. His favorite. "You're wallowing," he stated matter-of-factly. He scowled as he pointed his spoon accusingly at him.<br/>"Fuck you," Eddie replied intelligently. <br/>Richie knit his eyebrows together. "What? Did you think we broke up?"<br/>"We were never together!" his voice once again broke with the tension in his throat. He coughed to try to cover it up. "How'd you even get in?"<br/>Richie looked wary. "You gave me a key." He scooted closer toward Eddie and put a hand on his knee. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here, traffic was wild."<br/>That's when things really hit Eddie. "Oh, holy motherfuck. You flew here after my breakdown last night?"<br/>"A holy mother fuck indeed. You can ask her." Richie answered quickly. His face was red. "If you hadn't been so fucked up, you would've remembered me telling you I was."</p>
<p>Eddie's breath started picking up. This was too much. It was always too much. He was never going to get over him. Never. He moved his gaze from the floor to look at Richie's face who was even closer than before. </p>
<p>Richie looked concerned. Eddie's eyes darted behind Richie for a means of escape. Before Eddie even had time to run, Richie pulled Eddie's person, ice cream and all, into his lap. He supposes maybe his running away plan was a bit obvious. </p>
<p>"Hey," Richie said breathlessly. <br/>"Hello, Richard," Eddie replied with a mouthful of fudge. Richie laughed. He could feel Richie shaking with it. God it was too much. <br/>"Are these my clothes?" Richie asked suddenly. <br/>He looked down at himself and shrugged. Fuck it. "Yeah."</p>
<p>Richie kissed him. Eddie gasped an embarrassing kind of noise. He moved the ice cream onto the floor so he could turn to look at him. His ass in Richie's lap, Legs wrapped around his waist. He threw his arms around his neck and kissed him with more hunger than he had ever felt in his life. Richie moaned and every nerve in Eddie's body responded. </p>
<p>"Do you mean it?" Eddie gasped into his mouth. <br/>Richie whined at the loss. "Huh? What do you mean?"<br/>"Fuck. Rich. I'm serious. You- Oh holy shit." Richie found Eddie's neck to occupy his mouth. "I'm serious. Fuck. You have to mean it."<br/>Richie rolled his hips up and they both groaned helplessly at the feeling. "I'm pretty sure I fucking mean it." <br/>That must've been the answer Eddie was looking for because he ground his ass down and pulled Richie's face back up by his hair to kiss him sloppily. It was mildly sticky and he tasted like ice cream. Richie whined again. Fuck it was hot in the kitchen. He said as much at the same time Richie said "You taste so good." Richie laughed like it was shocked out of him.</p>
<p>Eddie rolled his eyes and snarked that "It's probably because we were eating your favorite fucking ice cream, Richard." At the same time Richie had tugged at his own oversized sweatshirt on Eddie and said "It's probably because of these huge fucking clothes, Edward." They caught eyes and laughed loudly. Both from the in sync jabs at each other but the ridiculousness of the situation itself. The laughter died down into giggles. Eddie looked down at Richie lazily with a cheeky grin, eyes half lidded. Richie returned the love-sick expression.</p>
<p>"Keep looking at me like that, kid, and this'll be over before it even starts," Richie said suddenly. A need to run his mouth, even now. <br/>Eddie felt his lips tug upward but did his best to look stern. "God. Do you ever shut up?"<br/>"You like it."<br/>"I do."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>his stupid idiot self [2:45 am]: "hey everyone look at this hickey" [img]<br/>Bev: Oh my fucking god. STRANGER DANGER<br/>Ben: Are you really getting this drunk two nights in a row?<br/>Mike: I thought we had something special, Eddie. <br/>Stan: Has anyone talked to Richie?<br/>Bill: There is a lot going on. <br/>Richie &lt;3: lmaooooo<br/>Richie&lt;3: lewkin good babe ;)<br/>"Fuck you, guys. Richie stole my phone. What if I had been murdered? You guys can't tell it's me by my texts?"<br/>Richie &lt;3: it took him like 20 minutes to send that he's wine drunk don't let him fool u<br/>"Fuck you. You're drinking the same wine"<br/>Bev: ... Then how did you get that hickey?<br/>"Fuuuuuck you."<br/>Richie &lt;3: already did babe xoxo</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>